Trip to the Wild Side
by xSoulWriter
Summary: At finding out about her parent's divorce, 18 year old Isabella doesn't think twice before escaping her home in Miami beach to head to wild and beautiful Hawaii, armed only with her favorite surfing board and an old book bag. She is looking for a surfing break, but instead, she gets much more then that.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property ofStephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement** **is intended.**

Word count: 1,370

It was the perfect view. The sun stood high on the horizon, the sky cloudless and clear viewed. It was simply a shore, yet so much more than that. The sand looked soft and tidy, almost white like small pearls. And the ocean, ah the ocean, was simply magnificent. Everything about it was flawless, the easy way a big wave fell on top of another, the forming of a decent high surfing wave, and then as it turned to white and the wave vanished through the sand.

I could almost feel as if I were the male surfer that was now surfing delicately through an average wave, feeling free and careless of the world. Yet there I was, watching it all on a 62' inches TV, sitting on a couch.

I reached for the remote control, and with a scoff clicked off the TV. It only showed me what I was missing the most, what I wanted to have, but couldn't. I looked out the window at the sunny afternoon, a perfect day to surf. But that wouldn't happen now. My parents took me away from the surfing heaven of California, where the waves were like neighbors, up to Miami, where it was hard to find even a big wave.

They had never accepted the fact that I was a surfer, always saying it was a dangerous sport. Some part of me had always believed that they had only moved here to stop me from surfing, as a revenge for all those years of sneaking around to go to the nearest beach and surf the day away.

It had been a year since we moved here and a year since I had last surfed. I missed it all so much. The hard feeling of the surfing board against my feet, the adrenaline rush of the wave pulling me inside it's circle, and at last when I came out of the dark tunnel of waver, the freedom it gave me, as if I was on top of the world. I shook the memories of what might not even happen again out of my mind, and stood up from the couch.

From the large living room where I had been in, I could clearly hear my parents loud voices coming from their room. They weren't talking loudly though, more like arguing. Like they had argue for 3 hours everyday for the past 3 months.

At first I had asked them what the fighting was about, but after countless times of being told that it was nothing, I stopped asking them. For me, the usual arguing was a casual thing for them, like eating breakfast or sleeping. The society we lived in had it's perks, I had no business sniffing into my parent's problems, and no one judged me for not caring anymore. I loved them both but I knew getting between their marital problems wasn't going to solve anything.

My parents were both in the high status society of Miami, my mother being a professional and famous stylist and my father being an important congressman. I could not count the numerous times there was an article in a magazine about me. The daughter of Renee and Charlie Swan, out on the beached of California instead of pursuing a career.

I had never cared much for rumors, much less magazine ones. But that was all my parents thought about. I had wanted to be immature, to make a big thing out of moving to Miami, but I could not bring myself to do so. I had thought that somehow I would be back on California, but I hadn't thought of how much I would miss it until I woke up one day and went outside, expecting to see the ocean, instead I found the backyard.

I was heading to my room with my head bowed down when I heard my mother's footsteps approaching from my right. It was worse then I wouldn't thought, tears were streaming down my mother's cheeks, mixed with the blackness of her makeup. "Mom, what's wrong?" I asked her.

"Your father, that's what's wrong." That was exactly what my father told me when I asked him. "Isabella..." My mother stepped over to where I was and took my hands, looking up at me, her eyes meeting mines. "I can't stand it anymore, I'm going to divorce your father." I stared at my mother in disbelief, the thought sinking in. Divorce? I knew they had been arguing a lot but I never though it would actually become so much as divorcing each other.

I had seen my mother and father happy once and simply glowed together but perhaps they had been fooling me as they fooled the press by making us the perfect family.

"But why? How?" My voice was a rush, I had a weird voice, always out bursting even though I didn't cause it on purpose. My mother sighed and brought a trembling hand up to her forehead. "Isabella you are old enough to handle this, you are 18 years old already. We loved each other for a long time, and that love will never go away. But we are not fitting anymore, the spark, the thing that made us fall in love is gone. Divorce is the best choice baby, please understand that."

My mother touched my cheek and I moved to the side at her touch, watching her. How could she tell me all this as if it was a regular talk.

"You guys have been together for almost 20 years! How can you just tell me that you are going to get a divorce?" My eyes went wide, and I knew that for the first time I was actually raising my voice at my mom, but I couldn't really help myself. It was impossible not to be angry at her for her new decision. My mom's eyes were begging me to understand, big and teary. I turned my back on her, heading up the stairs and to my room.

I shut the door loudly behind me, and crashed down on my bed, angry and exasperated.

I never had really cared much for their fighting over this months, but then again I had never thought about the possibility of divorce. I loved my parents through it all and I couldn't picture myself living without or seeing less of one of them. I was used to them fighting and then making up again, but this was different, this was divorce, and there was no going back for divorce. I wiped the lone tears that had rolled down my cheek with my palm and sighed.

I had a sudden headache, and I was not going to go looking in the kitchen where my mom and dad where probably at to look for pills. I got up from my bed and opened my bedrooms large window.

I didn't exactly know where I was heading until I stopped walking and looked up at the beach in front of me. My house wasn't far, only blocks away from the nearest beach, since we lived in the hottest spot on miami beach. I sat down on the sand and looked up at the sky, leaning far back until I was laying down. And of all the things I thought about the most visible one was the fact that the place where I wished I were at was on top of a surfing board.

I groaned, no more tears were running down my cheeks, but I still couldn't help wanting to escape.

The thought hit me then. My parents never cared about my feelings. They had showed it a lot this past year, taking me away from what made me happy just to get famous and shake off bad reputation, and then my mother wanting to get the divorced without caring what I though about it. So why shouldn't I do the same? Why not escape it all and go surfing, go do what made me happy, Not even stoping to care what my parents thought about it?

All this thoughts were running through my mind and with a new outset on my future and a smug grin on my face I raced back to the house.


	2. A Girl

**All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property ofStephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement** **is intended.**

A Girl by Ezra Pound

_**The tree has entered my hands, e sap has ascended my arms, e tree has grown in my breast- wnward, e branches grow out of me, like arms. ee you are, ss you are, u are violets with wind above them. hild - so high - you are, d all this is folly to the world.**_

_Words: 2,565_

My mind was racing, my heart was beating, the feeling of what I was planning on doing was giving me an adrenaline rush at just thinking about it. I was standing in the middle of my room, a book bag that I hadn't seen since I graduated from high school on my left hand.

Inside the book bag where some shirts, beach shorts, bathing suits, a credit card, sandals, and a tooth brush and tooth paste. I had thought about taking suit cases but I didn't want to take thinking that would remind me of home.

On my left hand I had my passport, which confirmed I was old enough to flight, and was all I needed to travel anywhere in the world. And lastly, under my right arm, was my favorite surfing board.

I didn't exactly knew what I was going to do or where I was going, but that did not stop me. I thought about my parents, twice before looking around my room one more time and climbing down my window and the nearest tree until I landed on the ground.

I walked for a while, away from my house, away from the neighborhood and only stopped to get inside a yellow bus, where I told the driver to take me to the airport. He didn't really protest or ask questions and I thought this was mainly because of the fact that I was the only one on the bus.

I had taken the only credit card I had, and the only one that I could actually move. When we moved to Miami, my mother didn't really want to make the whole paperwork that came from transmitting to another city.

Instead she made the credit card of worldwide usage, which meant that I could use it to wherever I went, without worrying of them tracking me, since I was the solid owner of the credit card. Countless of times I told myself to go back to the house while I was on the bus.

I kept telling myself that going away was really a crazy decision. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to escape it all.

The ride to the airport seemed to take forever, when in reality only 30 minutes passed by before I was standing on the first step to the staircase that lead to the doors of the airport. As every other airport, the airport was packed with tons of people from different parts of the world.

I stood in front of the line to pick a ticket, and it wasn't 20 minutes later when a lady that worked at the airport asked me what ticket I was looking for, that I actually realized that I had no idea where I was going. My mind went straight to California, but I could not go there, everyone there knew me and my parents would find me there first thing in the morning, it was obvious to say the least.

I thought about the place were I'd went for minutes, letting people go ahead of me on the line while I rested my waist against the up-board of the desk and thought of places. I pictured surfing movies, and the name of the place hit my like a wave.

Hawaii, why hadn't I thought about it sooner? I asked myself. In TV, Hawaii was the place where all the elite surfers were at, plus, my parents would never think of Hawaii. The ticket costed much more then I would of guessed and I was thankful I had my own credit card with the money my grandmother had left me before she passed away.

After getting the ticket, I sat down on one of the comfy chairs in the waiting room, and it seemed I was sitting down there for 4 hours.

I knew I had no idea of what I was getting myself into, but I did know that I didn't want to go back to the hell that was my house. I thought of what went through my mother's and father's mind once they realized I was gone.

My mom would probably be mad, she does not have space on her hatred filled mind to feel anything else. My dad would probably be in a rage rampage, blaming her for everything. But why was I thinking of them now? They hadn't even thought twice about me throughout all of their arguing, they never thought of how that affected me.

They only cared about themselves then, it was my turn to care about myself now.

"Passenger's to the 3pm flight to Hawaii please give your ticket to the lady to the right and continue to your plane." The voice ringed through the waiting room and I got up, my backpack bouncing against my shoulder and back.

After giving my ticket to the fake smiling woman and passing though security, I was taken to the plane and given a number to the sit I was assigned in.

The airplane was spacious and bright, the flight attendants were walking around, taking requests from passengers, which seemed to all be middle aged tourists with a camera's chord on their necks, like a charm.

I was the only one that had a surfing board on arms, which a flight attendant took along with my book bag and accommodated on the back, because the surfing board wasn't able to fit on the small space that all passenger's had to hold their belongings.

She asked me if I needed anything and I went for a sandwich and water, my stomach had been in a fit since I left the house. My sitting buddy was a middle aged woman dressed in a light blue dress, flat's and headphones on her ears that were so loud that I feared her ears were going to explode soon.

I had been the first to arrive from the two of us, and I looked through the small window of the plane as I ate in silence.

I hadn't really known how long the flight was, but I had been sitting there for a really long time, I was sure of it. I had fallen asleep and even dreamed and woke up and we where still in the air. I even read a little of a plane's pamphlet that was sticked on the wall, that's how bored I was.

I finally gave up trying to fast time forward with my mind and got up from my sit, heading to the bathroom. Inside, it was exactly what a plane's bathroom looked on movies. A very small square of space, a toilet and a sink.

A straight to the point bathroom, not even a small little happy face sticked to the wall to get entertained on. I really didn't even need to go to the bathroom, just to move, my butt was asleep.

I was trying to stretch the best I could when there was a knock on the bathroom door. I opened the door a tiny bit and peeked out, the flight assistant smiled at me, cheerfully. It seemed they were always happy about something.

"Sorry for the bother Ma'am but we're ready to land and all the passenger's need to be sitting." I nodded to her and walked out of the bathroom, taking my sit once more and tightly fixing my security belt.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the flight from Miami to Hawaii, please hold on tight to the handles, fix your belts, we will be arriving in a couple of seconds."

There wasn't that most turbulence as the place started to land, and I didn't even notice once the planned stopped altogether.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, unbuckle your seat bells and please exit through the left door, which you first came through. Senior citizens that need help please hold on in your seat until a flight attendant arrives to your sit to help you." The flight attendant that had brought me the sandwich was explaining where to go and it was a mess as everyone moved to go out the only door there was.

With my surfing board on one hand and my book bag on the other, which I had gotten myself from the back, I pushed my way through the crowd of people.

My first impression of Hawaii was explained in one word, a very important word when it came to this state, sunlight. It was hot, but refreshing. Everything looked like the beach, everything looked tropical and everything that made me happy.

I followed the line of tourists and photographers inside the airport and my bags got checked, it was tops 30 minutes later when I was finally sitting on a taxi and heading to the hotel closest to the beach.

The taxi driver told me it was the most popular beach to surf on Hawaii and at this information I picked it obviously.

The only thing on my mind as I thought of where I was, was the waves and I pictures myself on top of one, my surfing board playing with the wave. I had taken cash money from an ATM, and I was abled to pay the taxi driver when he stopped in front of a great building.

The hotel was themed as an ancient cage, or at least what it would look like if it I has suddenly gone to heaven and was standing in front of a god-like structured place. Everything was made of wood and shapes were carved into the woods.

Shapes of surfing boards and tropical islands, but not sloppy marks or names but actually good looking beautifully made carvings. The name of the hotel, Pacific, was carved also, very gracefully on the exact middle in very large words.

I adored the place. Not just because it was expensive and great looking, but also because it was everything to tropical, and so Hawaii. Excitement coursed through my veins and I walked forward, pushing one of the tall doors that read, "Guests".

Inside, it was so much more elegant than outside. Bright light covered the whole lobby like a cape. Men and women walked around wearing colorful t-shirts with the hotel's name on them.

There were couches and sofas on the middle of the waiting area where they were some people with books and magazines on their laps or reading them.

I had never been to a hotel, at least not without my parents. That's why I had no idea of where to go. Though I didn't have to wait long because when a working lady that was behind a counter saw me and took in my book bag and my surfing board, she called to me.

I walked ahead and stood on the other side of the counter. She was dressed in a more elegant uniform, with a black vest with a shirt underneath and black pants.

"Hello Miss, what may I help you with?" I set my surfing board down against the floor of the hotel, the tip bouncing on my hand and against the counter of the desk.

"I need a room." I murmured.

"Of course, and how long will you be staying?" She asked as she glanced between me and the computer screen.

I knew I could be suspicious easily, but there was nothing unsuspicious about my situation. I knew that a young girl asking to stay on a hotel with no parents and a book bag as her only source of packages could sparkle anyones curiosity.

"A couple of months." Her eyes snapped to me, my bag and my surfing board, but she did not say a thing, probably because she was sure that she would lose a really good deal of money if she started asking for explanations.

"Alright then, to whom do I name the room for?" She asked drily , her humor completely gone.

Was this because she thought I was some sort of minor? I had been told my many I looked way younger then my actually age.

"Isabella Swan." I watched as dozens of hotel members went out and in through the wooden doors, some suntanned and hawaiian looking, others as white as snow, all americans.

"Do you have a credit card for the charge? We do not accept cash." I did not say anything about her cash comment, instead I searched through my back pack and took out my credit card, flipping it on my hand until I gave it to her.

She slid the credit card through the holder and looked up to me.

"Would you like a suite or a regular room?" She asked me.

"A suite would be just fine." She nodded, handing me back the credit card with a sour expression.

"The suite are $400 a day, that's going to be 30,000 for two month's, every activity included. Including the olympic pool we have on the other side of campus." I nodded shortly, knowing that it was expensive, I've paid for much more for much less.

"Alright Miss, this is your key." She handed me a card, with a code on the back to open the room, security seemed important in this hotel.

"Thank you." I muttered, turning around and turning the card too around, my suite's number was 450A, in the 4th floor, just perfect.

Don't get me wrong, I had always been a very athletic girl, considering I was beyond lazy and my age was a factor. But surfing had earned me abs that wouldn't go away easily, and somehow my body's constitution was not of an anti-exercise person.

Though I was happy for it, no one liked an anti-active surfer. I had thanked the girl and took the key card, along with my credit card, my book bag and my surfing board.

I didn't mind the 4 sets of fancy looking steps I had to struggle through, but the surfing board was too big so I had to carry it with my palm. Which was very uncomfortable.

A couple passed by me, it amazed me how tanned people here were, and how it looked as if that was their own regular color. Back in miami, having that type of perfect tan usually had something to do with a bottle.

I looked for room 450A, and thankfully it was the first room to the left of the hallway, the elevator right in front of it. An elevator I had obviously not acknowledged.

The key card that I was given had my name on it, and I realized that had it not been for my luck with the young receptionist who didn't ask any questions that would put me right in the middle of a child searching scene, I would've never been abled to be staying here.

As I pushed the beautifully decorated door of my suite, I hoped my luck would last.


End file.
